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Running the Batteries
A baleful brand, a hurrying torch
Whereby anew the boats are seenA burning transport all alurch !
Breathless we gaze; yet still we glean Glimpses of beauty as we eager lean.
The effulgence takes an amber glow
Which bathes the hillside villas far;
Painting the pale niagnolia-
The barge drifts doomed, a plague-struck one,
Shoreward in yawls the sailors fly. But the gauntlet now is nearly run,
The spleenful forts by fits reply, And the burning boat dies down in morning's sky.
All out of range. Adieu, Messieurs !
Jeers, as it speeds, our parting gun.
And menaces every one;
Y the shrouded gleam of the western skies,
Brave Keenan looked in Pleasanton's eyes For an instant-clear, and cool, and still ; Then, with a smile, he said: “I will.”
“Cavalry, charge !” Not a man of them shrank ;
With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds,
Line after line the troopers came
By the maddened horses were onward borne
So they rode, till there were no more to ride.
But over them lying there, shattered and niute,
OT 'mid the lightning of the stormy fight,
Did kingly Death, with his resistless might,
Lay the great leader low.
His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke
In the full sunshine of a peaceful town ; When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak
That propped our cause went down.
Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground,
Recording all his grand, heroic deeds,
And all the country bleeds.
He entered not the Nation's Promised Land
At the red belching of the cannon's mouth ; But broke the House of Bondage with his hand
The Moses of the South !